


To someone that, once, loved me back

by BeStill



Series: A dead boy is always right [1]
Category: Voltron: Defender of the Universe, Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternative Universe: psychiatric hospital, Angst, Lance suffers from depression, M/M, Suicidal Lance, and writes his last letter to keith, bye bye lance, goodbye letter, i should say that im sorry but guess what, klance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-24
Updated: 2017-03-24
Packaged: 2018-10-10 04:32:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10429161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeStill/pseuds/BeStill
Summary: "I am sorry if now I cannot say something witty or sarcastic as always, but it would be a waste since, instead, I can be honest and we all know that for me honesty is terrifying."





	

**Author's Note:**

> Read the tags and then you can go on!  
> Lance suffers from depression and if this topic can make you feel uncomfortable, please, go back and read something fluff (read one for me, too)!

 

 

Dear Keith,  
  
It is not that you decide that love is not enough, or no good, or too hard to understand. I wish I could say that is easy to put down an image, write a letter that can means something to you, but right now the only thing that I know is that the most cruel love is the one that you can see but you cannot touch and this piece of paper will never give you enough answers – not the ones that you deserve, anyway. So please, before we start, let me say that I am _truly_ sorry. That I love you and that yes, you are allowed to hate me.  
I miss you. I miss the rain, Keith. I miss the sun, too. You know that I am not a prisoner here, if I want I can just go out and feel the air on my cheeks – but it is not what I mean.  
When I am with you I am not really there, not for you nor for me and it kills me in a way that when the psychiatrist asks me something about it I cannot explain myself. I can kiss you, but then I start to panic and overthinking and I am so tired.  
Nay, I _was_ tired. Now, while I am writing this letter to you, I feel in peace and how beautiful is this?  
I am not a person that talks about his problems and sometimes I think that probably this has been my very first issue. And I laugh about it, because – seriously, can you imagine? I put every effort to hide everything wrong and now I am here and what is wrong is that I cannot stand the presence of the only person that I really want to see.  
I am sorry if now I cannot say something witty or sarcastic as always, but it would be a waste since, instead, I can be honest and we all know that for me honesty is terrifying.  
Promise me that you will remember me as the stupid kid that opens his mouth just to hear someone say “ _shut up_ ” and laugh. Please, be that someone. I need you to laugh because, even if you do not do that so much, I treasure every memory of those moments just to remember them when things get worse.  
You know, Keith, what scares me the most? To lose my mind. To lose control. If I cannot trust myself who can I trust then? And sometimes, well – more than just _sometimes_ or I would not be here, I cannot tell if my mind is playing tricks on me or not and it drives me crazy. I cannot allow it.  
I do not want to remember when we first met because you were there and you know. And I do not want to talk about the years together and when my mental illness started to show up again, always because you were there and if there is one thing that I am sure about is that you do not deserve me talking about how happy we were and how cruel happiness can be.  
What I want to tell you is that you can cry. If you want, you can put all of your anger right on the knuckles of your hands and hit a wall. And say that you never loved me, that I was a joke. If you want, you can deny me. I promise, I understand and your pain is not only yours: you have friends. Talk to them. They will understand, too.  
I am not here to say that I am getting what I want, because what I hate the most is that I know I wanted something better.  
  
When someone talks about suicide the first thought that comes in mind is “ _that person hates themselves_ ” because the simple idea of death is something horrible. For me, this, is nothing but freedom.  
Probably at this point I could seem delirious but, I swear, now is the first time in a while that I am myself and that I can decide without asking a permission. Can you understand what this is about? I am so tired of pretending and even if I wrote to you so many letters that I lost count, this is the first one where I am explaining the problem to you, because there was me and then there was you and I would have never allowed my disease to destroy us: not when it was already taken me and I knew the price. So laugh and joke was an acceptable compromise but I am sorry I lied to you. I am sorry if, since when I came here, I never wanted to see you again. And I am sorry if I never allowed you to go ahead with your life but, as cliché as it sounds, you were mine and when I saw how selfish I was, for the first time, I hated myself.  
  
This is the end of the letter and I am scared but, somehow, not as much as I thought I would have been.  
I will not write “I hope you will be okay”, but – instead: it is not your fault if you were not what could have made me stay - nothing would have been enough because, between love and control, I needed to chose the second one.  
You had loved me right. You are good. I am sorry.

 

  
_I love you_ ,  
  
Lance McClain

 

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know, I just wanted to see them suffer because im a little piece of shit, no excuses here.


End file.
